


The Smith Wars

by merry_amelie



Series: Academic Arcadia [169]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:22:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4359479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merry_amelie/pseuds/merry_amelie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A war of words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smith Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback: Is treasured at merryamelie@aol.com (or leave a comment).
> 
> Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.
> 
> For  
> My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, and Carol  
> Mali Wane for posting  
> My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
> 
> To Little Owl

Quinn strode through the halls of the History Department, delighted to be leaving enemy territory. The long-standing inter-departmental feud had heated up again today when Dean Smith had refused to accept his Tennyson and Swinburne course as a pre-requisite for the 300-level Age of Victoria class, scheduled for the spring semester.  
  
Their latest skirmish might well lead to an all-out war, with English majors unable to graduate as a result. Quinn had known that he needed to get down here and make the case on behalf of his students, even though every time he dealt with this particular Dean, he felt eviscerated by his taunts.  
  
Smith's contemptuous words had hit Quinn like a double-edged sword, slashing into both his course and the years of research he had done to prepare for it. He'd kept his composure throughout Smith's flurry of attacks, although the Dean's red tie and black suit vaguely unsettled him. He thought he'd even caught sight of tattoos in those very colors, as Smith gesticulated wildly with a red laser pointer at his detailed syllabus, though they were mostly hidden under innocuous cloth. He shuddered involuntarily as he practically flew up the hallway, the hum of the building's ventilation system making the situation seem even more ominous.  
  
Thoughts of Ian had seen him through, as he imagined his husband swooping in to save the day with a devastating riposte. He had stalked out of the Dean's office, buoyed by the vision of his lad in action.  
  
Ah, thank goodness. Ian was working at his desk and smiled at Quinn as soon as he saw him. Quinn tried to return his smile but didn't quite succeed. He turned and bolted the door, letting the ponderous thunk speak for him.  
  
Watchful blue-green eyes followed his every move. "Uh-oh. The Dean's on the warpath again?"  
  
Quinn gave him a grim nod. "He's threatening to de-register my students from the Age of Victoria course for the spring semester."  
  
Ian groaned. "I have a bad feeling about this."  
  
"Me, too," Quinn said. "It's not the right way to start the semester."  
  
"I'm sure Case will take a dim view of the Dean's high-handedness." Ian turned off his laptop, the better to concentrate on their conversation.  
  
"I e-mailed him on the way back." Quinn came over to sit on the edge of Ian's desk, his long legs in tan slacks, pale against the cherrywood, Oxford shoes dragging across the carpet. "He's told me not to go over there anymore, no matter the provocation." He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.  
  
Ian whistled. "They're really gearing up for a fight." He stood and stepped between Quinn's legs, too intent on soothing his husband's headache to take advantage of the intimate position he had put them into by his impetuousness. He tenderly replaced Quinn's fingers with his own and ran gentle circles over his herven's sweaty skin.  
  
Ian's proximity was maddening; just a bare inch closer, and he'd be pressing against Quinn's cock. Quinn lost track of what his husband was saying, too distracted by Ian's heat to follow the conversation properly.  
  
Ian was distracted, too; he wanted a kiss even more than he wanted to broker a truce, at least in the heat of the moment. He moved away as much as he could force himself to, all the while continuing his massage.  
  
Quinn gave him an understanding look; as usual, both of them were on the same page. "Looks that way. A real battle royal." Quinn closed his eyes in pleasure at Ian's touch, despite the unpleasant topic of conversation. "Now we'll have to handle everything by e-mail, or phone, if absolutely necessary."  
  
"Last I heard the secretaries aren't talking, either." Ian muttered as he continued his ministrations, a little grin forming on his lips as Quinn relaxed under his hand.  
  
"Not even gossip?" Quinn asked wryly.  
  
"You know as well as I do that nothing ever completely shuts down the grapevine." Ian's voice was as dry as Tatooine sand. "And here I had high hopes of our Jess reaching a detente with Asa." Case's secretary Jessica was widely known for her affability.  
  
"Pie in the sky, lad. Smith's playing hardball now." Quinn was melting under Ian's loving caresses.  
  
"Case has the right of it. No more border crossings until this is resolved," Ian said firmly.  
  
Quinn took the hand that had been petting his forehead all this time and kissed it, then cupped his husband's cheek tenderly. "Aye, General. But it's probably a moot point. Next thing you know a blockade of desks will be barring the way." Despite the urgency of their situation, he had to resist the temptation to trap Ian's legs between his thighs right here and now.  
  
Sporting a wolfish grin, as if he knew just what his herven was thinking, Ian said, "Ah, then they'd be underestimating the ingenuity, not to mention the flexibility, of our side. After all, a barricade is nothing to a gymnast." Quinn's snort at his joke was as eloquent as a more verbal response to Ian. "And besides, a blockade would be taboo. Luke's Code of Conduct clearly states that inter-departmental grievances should go to the University Senate for resolution."  
  
"Why am I not surprised you know that, Mister By the Book?" Quinn smiled.  
  
"That's *Professor* By the Book to you, my herven." Ian's eyes danced as he quoted Quinn's words from their private Fourth of July celebration right back at him.  
  
When Ian reached down to pet his thigh, Quinn realized this was the best answer he could have gotten.  
  
"You ought to know by now that I love to surprise you," Ian murmured.  
  
Quinn entwined their fingers on his slacks. "And I look forward to it, at home," he said, a subtle reassertion of their office rules.  
  
Ian sighed and squeezed fiercely before releasing his grip. After reading acquiescence in his husband's eyes, he leaned in for a quick kiss, all love, with passion firmly held at bay, for now. He reluctantly retreated from the warmth between Quinn's thighs, knowing that he shouldn't have been there to begin with, at least not in their office. Back to his chair and back to the subject at hand, he thought reluctantly. "So we have a communications disruption to deal with now."  
  
Quinn nodded. "And you know what that means?"  
  
Both of them smiled, remembering the classic lines from one of their favorite Star Wars movies, The Phantom Menace, which they had seen on their first proper date in New Jersey.  
  
"Next step -- invasion of the English Department." Ian imbued this outrageous statement with relish.  
  
"To the barricades!" Quinn roared.  
  
"De-register _this_!" came Ian's lusty shout.  
  
The two dissolved into laughter, and every time they chanced a look at each other's faces, they were off again.  
  
After a few minutes of this much-needed hilarity, Ian leaned up to rub away the moisture collecting in Quinn's crinkles. "So you're spoiling for a fight, huh?"  
  
Quinn shook his head. "Actually, all joking aside, I'd rather negotiate our way out of this predicament."  
  
"If anyone can, you're the one," Ian said with utter certainty.  
  
Blue eyes sparkled. "Ah, lad, such confidence in me."  
  
Blue-green eyes sparkled back. "You're our department's top negotiator, after all."  
  
"Thanks, laddie. I've got an unforgiving deadline, though." Quinn frowned. "The kids come back from Winter Break in two weeks. This impasse needs to be resolved by then."  
  
Ian nodded, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "We'd better do it before somebody tries to graduate using those disputed credits." He did his best impression of Watto: "English Department credits no good here."  
  
Quinn snorted out a laugh, just as he heard steps in the corridor.  
  
A knock at the door had them looking at each other speculatively. Had retaliation started already?  
  
Anti-climactically, it turned out to be Evan Peel, their colleague who shared the office next door with Ethan Kotter. He was a fellow veteran of the Smith Wars.  
  
Quinn let Evan in with a smile and bolted the door behind him.  
  
Evan stared at him, his majestic ears pricked up. "What's up with you guys?" he asked, and then promptly blushed.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Ian said, "Subtle, Evan, really subtle."  
  
"Well, what's going on with History, then?" he said. "I was eating my sandwich at the Student Center, and Professor Tarkington walked by and gave me the most malevolent glare I've ever seen."  
  
Quinn explained the situation in a few pithy sentences and waited for Evan's reaction. He was not disappointed.  
  
Evan looked energized. "Okay, let's talk strategy. I was in ROTC, you know. Had to quit when I started having problems with my vision."  
  
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes again, Ian drawled, "Yeah, I think you might have mentioned it," stopping himself before he could add 'a few dozen times'.  
  
Evan said, "We could de-register a couple of History majors from our advanced courses and see how the Dean likes it."  
  
"That's one possibility," said Quinn diplomatically, "But it would just hurt more kids and escalate the war."  
  
"Too true," Ian said, the crease between his brows deepening.  
  
"How 'bout we retaliate by threatening to pull out of Humanities 101 next year?" Quinn asked, a very wicked smile on his face.  
  
Ian's eyes took on a dangerous gleam to match. "They may as well slash the syllabus in half without us." He paused for dramatic effect. "In fact, you might even say that it's history."  
  
All Quinn and Evan could do was groan as Ian's mischievous grin lit up the room.


End file.
